


Spinning

by Goldy



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-08 19:10:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1952751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldy/pseuds/Goldy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Sometimes Rose wondered if a person could burst from feeling too many things at once.</i> Set during S2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spinning

The Doctor’s fingers were gentle as they smoothed over her thumb and wrist. She closed her eyes, listening to the steady pounding of her heart, the slight hitch to her breathing.

“You still with me?”

She nodded, eyes fluttering open. He didn’t look at her. His entire attention was focused on her hand.

“Am I going to be okay?” she managed, tongue flicking out to lick her bottom lip. “You know what it was, yeah?”

The Doctor didn’t answer, but his gaze darkened, and he dabbed a clear, stringent smelling clean on her wound. She hissed in pain and he looked up, almost banging her nose with his glasses.

“I have to clean it out before the poison spreads.” He paused. “I’m sorry.”

“Doctor?”

“Fine,” he said. He met her eyes. “Honestly, Rose. You’re going to be fine.”

He said it with such assurance that she couldn’t help but believe him. She gave him a hesitant smile.

“There we go,” said the Doctor encouragingly. “Take my shoulder. Squeeze if it hurts.”

“Won’t do us any good if both of us get injured,” Rose said.

“Believe me,” said the Doctor. “I’ll be fine.”

He went back to work with such intent focus that Rose felt a small flutter in her stomach. The pain was good. Helped her focus. Besides, he was being as gentle as he could be. She could tell.

Remarkable, really—barely ten minutes ago, he’d been yelling at the top of his lungs, about ready to kill everything and everyone on this planet. She didn’t know how he could change so quickly; going through emotions like a box of tissues.

But that was the Doctor. Well, _this_ Doctor, anyway.

And she _liked_ this Doctor. She liked his stupid glasses, and those horrid sideburns, and the way he’d smile at her when he thought she wasn’t looking—no, _especially_ that smile. He always smelled really nice, too. Not like Mickey, who sometimes smelled like old socks and pizza boxes. The Doctor always smelled good. Not of anything in particular. Just… the Doctor.

Sometimes Rose wondered if a person could burst from feeling too many things at once.

A jolt of pain shot through the cut in her palm and up her arm. She clamped down on the Doctor’s shoulder and grit her teeth.

He didn’t even wince.

“Almost there…” he whispered, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she managed, digging her fingers deeper into his shoulder. “How much longer?”

“I need to make sure I get all the radiation, Rose. If I miss even a _little_ ….”

“Right,” she managed, biting her bottom lip. “Poisoned. Got it.”

“I have an idea,” said the Doctor. “Next trip, we’ll go swimming. Haven’t been to the ocean in a while, have we? There’s some lovely hot springs on _several_ planets—with sea creatures as large as whales. Bigger, even. And… fiercer. On second thought, maybe we should avoid those planets.”

“Nice idea, but I think I left my swim-suit at home.”

“Well, you could go starkers.”

Rose’s head jerked up. “What?! Doctor, you did not… you _did_!”

A small smiled curved at his lips. “Problem?”

“I see what you’re trying to do,” Rose said. “You’re trying to distract me.”

The Doctor “hmmd” softly. “Is it working?”

“Sort of,” Rose admitted.

Except _now_ she was wondering if he spent a lot of time thinking about her naked—if he _wanted_ to see her naked. Her face reddened and she was absurdly thankful he was too busy concentrating on her hand to notice.

“There,” said the Doctor finally. Immediately, the pain slowly started to recede. She loosened her grip on his shoulder.

“Doctor?”

“I just need to bandage you up,” he said, with a smile that betrayed his relief. Tension melted from his face. “You’ll be fine, Rose.”

“‘Course I’ll be,” she said. “Never doubted you.”

Which was true. There was nothing the Doctor wouldn’t do for her; she was certain of it.

“Makes one of us,” he mumbled, tearing off a piece of gauze with his mouth. He took her hand between both of his, fingers lingering along the inside of her wrist before wrapping the bandage around her wound.

“Now I’ve just got to remember to stay away from aliens who carry ugly plants with sharp teeth,” Rose said, trying for levity.

The Doctor didn’t smile. He finished bandaging her hand and then turned his chin up to study her, eyes sweeping over her face, perhaps assuring himself that she was alright.

“How’s that feel?”

“Better,” Rose said, mouth going dry. She moved to hop down from the examination table—and ended up in a half-swoon, half-faint instead.

The Doctor caught her before she hit the ground. “Blimey, be careful. You just got attacked by a Mingo Sting Trap, Rose—you can’t just… just go walking around after that. You might _feel_ fine, but your muscles will be weak—”

Rose stopped listening. It was hard to concentrate on much of _anything_. She turned her head, cheek bumping against his chin.

She swallowed.

“—shut down your nervous system, one organ at a time. Lucky I got you back to the TARDIS in time; I was able to get it out of you. Otherwise—”

Rose moved her head a little to the side, cheek now hovering near his shoulder. She breathed in deeply. She felt… strange. A little like she was flying.

“—and, believe me, turning into a plant is not an experience worth having. Quite painful, really. It invades your muscles first, _then_ cuts off the oxygen to your brain—”

Rose pressed her lips together to muffle a laugh. He just looked so _serious_ with his glasses on, lecturing her on the dangers of being attacked by a plant—a _plant_ , she was never telling mum about this one—oblivious to the way he was still clinging to her like she was likely to melt into the floor and disappear at any moment.

“—but not as genius as me,” he finished. He glanced down at her, mouth doing a strange sort of bob when he realized how close she’d gotten. “What is it?”

Rose leaned up and kissed him.

That’s it. She _had_ to be going mad. She’d been drugged—or she was still feeling the shock of the plant’s poison. She’d never kissed the Doctor before. Oh, she’d always suspected the experience wouldn’t be entirely unpleasant for either of them, but not worth the risk. Not _ever_ worth the risk.

So that was why. That was why she was going mad. It was just… having him there, like that, so close—it felt like they shared everything already. It _couldn’t_ be wrong to go the rest of the way. Just couldn’t.

Her head felt disconnected from her body; weightless, like she was spinning. But then he tightened his grip, arms sliding around her back, anchoring her.

She didn’t know how long it went on for. The kisses were soft, tentative—like the Doctor was afraid anything else might break her.

Or maybe he was afraid for himself.

The Doctor ended the kiss, but he didn’t pull away, and she watched him try and force a smile. “Rose, you should get some rest.”

She stared at him. “Rest?”

“In bed—you, I mean, _you_ in the bed—alone—to recover,” he said. And then added, “As is customary after one is attacked by a Mingo Sting Trap.”

She didn’t move or break her accusing stare. The Doctor grew increasingly nervous.

“Rose, listen—that was…” his voice rose in pitch on the last word. He dropped one arm from her waist and scratched the back of his neck. “We can’t.”

“Why not?” Rose said.

“I…” he gestured at her with his free arm. “You’re—you’re delirious. Lost blood. Almost turned into a Mingo Sting Trap. It wouldn’t be right.”

“Oh, come on,” Rose whispered, biting her lip. “It’s not about me. You think… this is wrong or something, but it’s not.” She paused. “How can it be?”

His eyes swept back to hers and she saw him hesitate.

She slid one hand up his arm, coming to rest on his shoulder. “Scared?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. She drew in a shaky breath. “Cause I am, too. A little bit.”

He looked ready to protest, but then his eyes filled with admiration. “Rose Tyler,” he said.

“That’s me,” Rose confirmed.

Before he could say anything else, she leaned up to kiss him again. It was nice, that. Kissing the Doctor. Maybe she should’ve tried it ages ago.

“Mmmph,” he inelegantly pulled away. “Hang on—”

Rose shot him an accusing look, shoving her bottom lip out into what was definitely _not_ a pout.

He blinked at her, and then shook himself, reaching up to take off his glasses. “Ah,” he said, pocketing them. “Now, where were we?”

He leaned forward to kiss her—less timid this time, but he drew back soon after, eyebrows furrowing.

“How was that? Been a while since I’ve…”

Rose laughed, and the Doctor’s frown turned to full-blown worry. “No!” she said hastily. “No, it was good. Better than. Brilliant. Not bad for a bloke who’s pushing a millennium.”

“Ah,” the Doctor said. “Now I feel like I should be taken and thrown in jail. Thank you.”

“Oh, shut up,” Rose said.

She found his lips. It was better this time—longer. Her mouth opened slightly, tongue touching his lips. It didn’t take long for the kisses to become more heated—for tongues and teeth and nips.

He pulled away again, and Rose vaguely considered banging her head against the exam table. Well, that, or _his_ head.

“Just wanted to say,” he said, oblivious to her glare. “Just wanted to tell you—I’m really glad you didn’t turn into a Mingo Sting Trap.”

He ducked his head and then flashed her one of _those_ smiles.

She swore she blushed all the way down to her toes. “Me, too,” she said.

He grabbed her hand. “Come on!”

“What?” Rose said, startled—and nearly tripping over her legs as she stumbled to catch up to him. “But Doctor…?”

She felt stupid saying she hoped there would be more snogging in her future, but he seemed to catch the implication from her tone.

“Better places than the infirmary for this type of stuff, hmm?” he said. “Like the console—or the _library_ —or… a bedroom.”

Rose stuffed one finger in her ear and rubbed vigorously to make sure she wasn’t hearing things. The Doctor swung back around to look at her.

“I _have_ done this stuff before,” he said, almost accusingly. “Nine-hundred-years-old, me.”

“I know,” Rose said. She pushed him forward. “So, go on, then. Stop wasting time.”

He gave her an appraising look. “Right.”

Instead, he pulled her in for another kiss.

Rose supposed they were _almost_ out of the infirmary. That would do.  



End file.
